Found under a book tower, the ruins
on desk told some story.
Now I have to translate–
Which language do
I
Use?

After waiting in line, I lean
against a wicker basket of
plastic cups, or containers,
with plastic straws.
Insig
nificant.
Obviously. But
it means something,
somewhere.

Time, what if I didn’t care?
What if I didn’t let
you get to me this
way?

I’ll be better after
coffee. Mocha. Is that
whip cream needed? Well,
is air? Are breaths? Are voices?
What? My son said back
to me.
Even more confused than
me.

Lake or puddle, I still
swim. Sylvia,
me,
We scurry off to Bodega to
get our day’s blackberries.
Stapled to dreams is an
angry alarm. Impending,
promising.

Looking into my
wallet. Ignorant dust.

Lost a little cash–

well, I spent it.
On the shears.

(3/11/14)